A sports lesson: "We don't need to spike the football"

The flag at Yankee Stadium. Many American's took solace in baseball at the attacks of September, 11th, 2001.

Michael Zanussi
/ Flickr

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Sometimes the real world is so overwhelming it sneaks into sports. One of those times occurred after 9/11, when the crowd at Yankee Stadium sang “God Bless America.”

I’m not very religious, but it sounded right to me.

It seemed appropriate that that signature moment, when we needed to be together, occurred in our country’s most hallowed arena, the nation’s front porch.

We are probably the most sports-soaked culture in the world. We’re the ones who pay for the Olympics, after all – and I believe our code of conduct when we’re competing often represents our values at their best.

People like to say sports teaches us how to be aggressive.

But you can learn that through alley fighting. Any jerk with no regard for others can be aggressive. Prisons are filled with them. 9/11 was conceived by them.

So I disagree.

I think what sports teaches is how to be aggressive without crossing the line. That’s the crucial difference. That’s why every sport I know not only has official rules, but unwritten ones, too, that anyone who cares about the sport is expected to follow.

If you’ve ever coached – any sport, any age – you know that is one of the hardest lessons to teach – and one of the most important.

When I coached high school hockey, I made it clear: I expected my guys to be tough, but never dirty. When my players complained the other team was dirty, I said: Right. That’s what makes you better than them. I don’t coach those guys. I coach you.

That was one more reason -- among many others, of course -- that 9/11 troubled me.

It boiled down to a few thugs going after 3,000 innocent civilians, led by a coward who had enough money to get others to do his fighting for him.

He just took the credit -- if that’s what you call it.

I admit I was not always heartened by our nation’s response to 9/11, either.

So much of it seemed sloppy and undisciplined – and counterproductive.

John McCain has said one of the most important sources of strength he and his fellow Viet Nam P.O.W.’s relied on to keep going was the simple belief that they were better than their captors.

It seemed like we were losing that.

And that’s why I was so heartened by the conduct of the Navy Seals this week.

I know there are still many questions about how this process started. But I don’t have too many questions about how it ended, or about the men who flew into Pakistan that night.

They found their man not in a cave outside Kabul, sacrificing for his cause – however wrong-headed it might be – but in a suburban mansion.

I admired the Seals’ commitment to going after this paper bully – and the incredible preparation, courage and restraint they displayed under the most dangerous conditions.

They were not inspired by blood lust, but simple justice.

If the choice was him, or thousands more innocent people – an equation he created, not us – the Seals’ decision is one I can live with. Literally.

The Seals got their man.

It felt cathartic.

They reclaimed a measure of our self-respect – and they left it at that, right down to the decision to give him a proper Muslim burial at sea, and to keep the photos private.

“We don’t need to spike the football,” President Obama said. “That’s not who we are.” And that’s what Senator McCain was talking about.

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On Tuesday, the Michigan football family lost another beloved son, Jim Mandich, who died of cancer at age 62.

Regular readers of this space know I’ve had to write a few elegies already this year, and I’m not sure if we can bear another one right now.

I’m not sure Mandich would want any more, either, beyond his funeral.

As he told Angelique Chengalis of The Detroit News last fall, after he was diagnosed with cancer, “I said to myself, ‘No whining, no complaining, no bitching. You've lived a damned good life. You've got lot to be thankful for.’”

If you’re not a Michigan football fan, you probably haven’t heard of Vada Murray, but you might have seen his picture.

It’s one of the iconic images of Michigan football, along with Tom Harmon standing in his mud-soaked, torn-apart jersey, Ol’ 98, and Desmond Howard diving to catch a touchdown against Notre Dame -- two Heisman Trophy winners, winning big games.

But the photo I’m talking about depicts Vada Murray and Tripp Welborne soaring skyward to block a field goal.

They were a kicker’s nightmare, but even when they got a hand on the ball, it simply denied their opponent three points -- not the kind of thing that wins you a Heisman Trophy or an NFL contract.

They don’t even keep records of blocked kicks.

But, over two decades later, something about that photo still resonates, perhaps because it captures their effort, their intensity, their passion – all of it spent just to give their teammates a slightly better chance for success.